


You're Like Coffee (you keep me up all night)

by inlightofvisa



Series: The McCall-Hale Diaries [29]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Baristas are not usually this douchey, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 17:02:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlightofvisa/pseuds/inlightofvisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek may have trust issues, but he has no problem with staking a claim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Like Coffee (you keep me up all night)

**Author's Note:**

> http://indecentdrawer.tumblr.com/post/32068603832/youre-like-coffee  
> It's only like five months late

Derek knows Stiles’ drink order simply on the whole basis of having to hang around him for almost as long as he can remember, because Stiles and Scott somehow turn into StilesandScott or ScottandStiles sometime during the first grade. Stiles’ drink order, just like his personality, is sweet and savory. When Stiles was younger, he’d always get a peanut-butter chocolate drink of some variation.

“It’s the two things you’d never expect to go together,” he had explained to Derek one day after walking out of a poorly placed Starbucks, Scott trailing after them. “Plus, it’s really tasty. Like drinking the liquid form of a Reese’s.”

But then Stiles’ mom had died, and things had changed. The first time Stiles orders a mocha cappuccino, Derek’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

“You’re not gonna like that,” he tries to explain to fourteen year-old Stiles, bending over to meet his eyes. Stiles hasn’t hit his growth spurt quite yet, so he’s still short and gangly like a scrappy, short string bean.

“You don’t know what I like,” Stiles had told him coldly, normally vibrant gold-brown eyes a dull ocher. Derek had backed out of looking out for Stiles after that. And then he had met Kate, things had come crashing down, and he was back to where he started with his family (sans father) and Stiles. But Stiles had always known that Derek was a creature of habit, mastering Derek’s drink order well before the first time that Stiles attempts to pay for Derek’s drink. It’s a couple years after Kate, and Derek is a little leery.

“No,” he had said, stepping in front of Stiles. “I’m buying for us, I have a job.” Stiles had just looked at him forlornly before shuffling back to their table.

“That was nice of you,” the barista had commented, taking Derek’s card and swiping it smoothly through the card reader. Derek had almost snatched the card back from her.

Nowadays, though, ScottandStiles had become Scott and Stiles, then ScottandAllison and Stiles, and then just ScottandAllison. And Stiles. Which had then started to become Stiles and Derek. And now it’s StilesandDerek and Derek is so frightened of where things are going, but he’s found that he is incredibly bad at denying Stiles anything (except for paying for things, because Derek has at least _some_ dignity and also is _employed_ ) so he doesn’t attempt to put a brake on anything. Especially since Derek’s had those feelings for a while. He’d talked to Mom about it, and she’d told him to start to trust Stiles with more of the little things.

“There’s no doubt that Kate was a godawful bitch,” she’d bitten out. Derek had raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Mom,” he’d said in shock and awe. “Don’t you think that’s kinda…?”

“It’s not harsh, Derek,” she’d said, clenching her hands into a fist and jostling the table with them a bit. “She took advantage of you, Derek. She completely ran all over your heart, and you just don’t do that to people you love.”

Derek had winced, but then Mom had said that Stiles was different, and that he was trustworthy.

“And Stiles knows what’ll happen if he treats you like Kate treated you,” she had said with a wry smile. Derek had turned incredibly red.

“ _Mom_ ,” he’d whined, and that was the end of _that_ conversation. The last thing Mom had said before going to bed (“I swear, all of you put together are a freaking soap opera, and I don’t want to _live_ one of those, I’m very happy to keep the drama strictly to ridiculously awfully overdone television character and I am getting old and very _tired_ , okay, Derek?”) was that he should take baby steps. Let Stiles take the reins sometimes.

And that’s how Derek ends up at their usual table in Starbucks, waiting on Stiles to get his mocha cappuccino and Derek’s London fog. He eyes the barista chatting with Stiles. The coffee man is a pretty thing—blonde hair artfully tousled and tucked beneath a green cap. His shoulders are broad, and he’s blessed with good facial structure. He winks at Stiles, and Derek scrubs a hand over his face. _It’s just a barista, it’s just a barista, he’s just being nice_ , he thinks to himself, starting to jitter with nerves. _He’s just a barista_.

“Drinks are free on me,” the barista says, and Stiles looks confused. “I’d love to take you out sometime.” Stiles holds his hands up.

“Whoa, dude, you don’t understand,” he says, smiling nervously. “I’m kinda taken.”

“What?” the barista asks, leaning across the counter. “You’ve gotta be lying.”

“Nope,” Stiles replies, shaking his head and motioning towards Derek. “I’m with tall, dark, and handsome.”

Derek doesn’t like the look that the barista gives him across the room. It’s a mix of disgust with derision.

“Oh, that one? Right. Like he’d date you,” the barista scoffs. Derek coughs loudly, fumbling through his pockets for something, anything. He pulls out a pen and brandishes it threateningly. Stiles thankfully doesn’t turn around.

“No, no, he’s—we’re a thing. No, I don’t want your number!”

The barista makes eye contact with Derek again, smirking. Derek narrows his eyes, points at the barista and then back at the pen. He flexes his hands, and then snaps the pen in half. As he lets the pen halves drop to the ground, the barista blanches.

“Oh. Um, sorry, I’ll take that from you,” the barista says, turning around and grabbing the drinks from his coworker. “Look, I’m really sorry, drinks are still on me.”

“Thanks!” Stiles chirps, none the wiser. Derek glowers at the barista until he flees to the back room. Stiles walks over to the table, drinks in hand. “Can you believe that guy?”

Derek smiles maybe a little too smugly, because Stiles looks puzzled.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Derek ends up saying finally, taking a sip of his tea. “He was kind of a douche.”


End file.
